


Coeur froid

by neonfart



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Blood Kink, F/F, Talon Lena "Tracer" Oxton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 11:19:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12034812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonfart/pseuds/neonfart
Summary: Talon!Tracer and Widowmaker figure out a way to combat the cold.





	1. Chapter 1

“Ever get that feeling of Déjà-Vu?” Beautifully full lips framed a row of pearly whites as the owner of said lips disappeared in a flash of red light and reappeared again on the other side of a terrified soldier that stood in shock, his legs trembling in his tattered clothes. He quickly turned around to run away only to be met with another flash of red light and a short haired woman blocking his way with a sadistic look in eyes hidden behind a red tinted visor. Again turning on his heel the soldier ran away only to have a bullet course through his head a few steps into his escape.

 

“Stop messing around.” A strict, French accented voice came from a small communicator in the woman’s ear.

 

“You’re such a killjoy love!” The woman returned, her British accent prevalent in her words, as she turned around on the heel to look into the direction where the woman who was talking to her was situated. “I was going to take him down eventually!” She added with a voice too cheerful for the situation they were in.

 

“We don’t have time for you to play games _Tracer_.” Monotony prevailed in those words as another bullet whizzed by the British woman’s face, not even earning a flinch from her, and into another soldiers head.

 

“Are you really lecturing me about _time_ love?” Tracer, or at least what remained of her, asked with a teasing tone to her words.

 

“Finish the assignment chérie!” The voice added followed by a small clicking sound that signaled the disconnection of the devices. With a smirk Tracer had turned around, blinking on top of a broken down wall and shooting her pulse pistols to the two men taking cover behind it. Another blink, and another, and another, reckless and unplanned moves through the rain of bullets that came from both sides. Tracer reveled in the chaos, a red trail of light and blood following her movements as she maneuvered herself to her designated position on a broken off balcony next to a large door that she assumed must’ve been made of glass considering the crunching that came from beneath her black shoes. Receiving an O.K from her companion she entered the building through said doorway making quick work of the four guards that surrounded her target. She smirked as she made eye contact with the leader of this little armada that fought against them. Tracer had to commend the drug lord for his courage. Not only did he break the coalition he had with Talon but he also managed to steal some very important tech from them. Unfortunately for him, his courage would be his demise.

 

“Stay away you wench!” He said holding the suitcase containing the stolen tech tightly in his chest and raising a hand to point a gun at Tracer. “I know that thing is the only reason you’re still alive!” He said with a smug look on his features using his gun to gesture to the harness on Tracer’s chest. The device wasn’t necessarily bulky; it was on the small side, taking up a hand sized circle shape on the woman’s chest. It glowed red, pulsating every once and again. It looked like it was screwed into flesh. “You make one wrong move and I shoot that thing!” He threatened making Tracer look down. His victory was short lived though as soft giggles erupted from the shorter woman turning into a full on laugh in a short matter of time. The man’s smug look quickly disappeared as he snapped his head to the side. In a quickly flash of red Tracer had appeared on his side leaning against him.

 

“You really have no idea who you crossed do you?” Tracer asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. As the man turned around to shoot the woman she once again blinked behind him kicking him in the back pushing him forwards. “Come on big boy! Don’t go easy on me now!” She said with a laugh as the man shot her again, managing to land a hit right through her shoulder. Tracer’s smirk didn’t falter as she stalked closer to him making him back away before the cold breeze from the outside hit his back. “My turn!” The brit said with malice as she pulled her pulse pistols making the man turn around on his heel ready to run only to stop mid-step as he became conscious of his position. He stood right on the edge of the broken down balcony. He didn’t have time to react as Tracer pulled the trigger and shot him behind his neck. The man fell on his knees, his fingers letting go of the suitcase in his hands, and fell from the balcony with a gut wrenching splatter and crunching sound as bones broke. Tracer smirked and took the suitcase in her hand waving it around in victory with a playful and smug smirk on her features, her eyes somehow connecting with the French sniper a ways away in front of her.

 

* * *

 

 

“You need to stop being so reckless.”

 

“Or maybe you should get that stick out of your ass and live a little!” A yelp of pain followed the words.

 

“That stick is what keeps me _alive_ chérie!” The tone the words were spoken in stung more than the needle that punctured Tracer’s skin as her companion stitched the hole that man’s bullet had left on the brits shoulder. They remained in silence, Tracer practically sitting on her companions lap,  as the Frenchwoman worked on stitching her up.

 

“Thanks Widow love!” Tracer had said when Widowmaker had finished stitching her up before putting on her black skin tight suit followed by her bomber jacket. The wool of the collar felt nice against her neck and cheeks. Tracer sighed leaning back on Widowmaker receiving a huff of annoyance from the Frenchwoman. “Man I hate the cold, just how long do we have to wait here?!” Tracer asked a whine to her voice.

 

“If you’re so cold then get off me!” Widowmaker said with a roll of her eyes but she made no attempt to push the other woman off. “Maybe if you wouldn’t have messed around and done your job on time the pickup jet wouldn’t have had to turn back to wait out the snow storm.” The Frenchwoman added annoyance clear in her tone.

 

“What fun would that have been?” Tracer asked with a smug face looking out at the blowing wind and snow that made it almost impossible to see anything. She sometimes wondered why a terrorist organization as rich as Talon didn’t buy places other than unfinished buildings as hideouts. She let her head lean back on Widowmaker’s shoulder looking at her with dangerously suggestive eyes.

 

“No.” Was the only word that came from the Frenchwoman.

 

“Please! Come on it’s so cold!” A whine.

 

“And whose fault is that chérie?”A raised eyebrow.

 

“Well then don’t you think I deserve punishment for it?” A singsong voice followed by a smug smirk. That had done it. Widowmaker looked at her from the corner of her eye for a moment with a domineering look. A shiver went through Tracer’s spine and it wasn’t from the cold. Hands traveled up the brits arms reaching the top of her bomber jacket pulling it down enough to expose Tracer’s shoulders and neck, which were still covered by the skin tight sit that reached her jaw-line. Widowmaker huffed and let her hands find the hidden zipper on the front of Tracer’s neck slowly pulling it down and kissing and nipping at every inch of skin that the cloth exposed as it detached from the shorter woman’s body. Once the top of Tracer’s uniform ad joined the bomber jacket scrunched at the brits elbows exposing her breasts Widowmaker had continued her assault on the brown haired woman’s neck, now biting and licking the skin there moving up every once in a while to kiss and nip Tracer’s jaw. Widowmaker never kissed her, but that didn’t mean Tracer didn’t try to trick her into doing just that every once in a while. Quickly turning her head she had hoped to catch Widowaker’s lips with her own, only managing to annoy the latter when her head bumped into the Frenchwoman’s.

 

“I didn’t say you could move.” Widowmaker growled out her hand squeezing around Tracer’s neck enough to keep her in place but not enough to deprive her of oxygen.  
  
  
“Since when do I listen to what you say?” Tracer teased, reveling in the grip that tightened around her neck to silence her. She loved pushing the other woman, it always led to her getting even more aggressive. With the bomber jacket and the top of her uniform pressing on her elbows Tracer’s movements were already stiff and with Widowmaker’s hand on her neck it only constricted her movements even more. She smirked as she felt cold lips against her now heating up skin, the contrast serving to only turn the British time traveler on even more. She felt Widowmaker’s long, cold fingers trail up her toned stomach and gasped quickly turning it into a moan as the Frenchwoman took the brits nipple in her fingers pinching it and pulling on it before letting it go and massaging her whole breast. She could feel the other woman’s smirk against her skin as Widowmaker’s cold tongue trailed the woman’s neck, the hand previously on it now traveling down to Tracer’s pants seamlessly sliding in. This was odd, usually the sniper was far more teasing in her approach. The only explanation Tracer could come up with was that the Frenchwoman was in a good mood. Not that she was complaining. Tracer purred in pleasure as slim fingers wasted no time in finding her clit. Circling around it and sometimes trailing down to go between her folds.

 

“You’re so wet ma petite salope.” Widowmaker’s husky voice and the degrading words only served to egg the woman on, her body now on fire as she felt the Frenchwoman’s fingers enter her and start pumping mercilessly. “Does it excite you? Being fucked like this? What if a worker came up here to check on everything and they find you like this hmm? Legs spread open, tits out….You’d probably love that would you? Quelle putain vous êtes!” Tracer didn’t respond, well not in any comprehensible way. All she could do was moan and groan out yeses as her mind blanked out. She was so close. “Are you about to cum ma salope?” Widowmaker asked with a smirk on her features.

 

“Yes! YES! Please! Please may  I cum?” Widowmaker smirked at the desperation in the brits voice. At least that hadn’t changed since the woman had joined Talon.

 

“Non.” Widowmaker said with a smirk her pulling her hand out of Tracer pants and digging her finger in the brits freshly stitched wound earning a groan of frustration and pain from her as she pushed the younger woman from her lap onto the ground. “Get dressed. Our ride is almost here.” Widowmaker’s voice had lost all of its previous sadistic intent returning to her usual monotonous drone-like voice.

 

When the pickup jet had arrived it had been greeted by a disheveled and angry Tracer and a self-satisfied Widowmaker. Maybe she’d take pity on the newest Talon agent and give her sweet release when they returned to the base.


	2. Coeur Chaud

“What?” Words fell from smugly smirking lips as golden eyes skimmed through the words of a book she didn’t even know what was the whole plot of, ignoring hazel ones that practically begged her to take her. The fact that Widowmaker wore nothing but black lace underwear and her combat heeled boots really didn’t help Tracers frustration.  

 

“Oh please love, please! it’s been five hours!” Tracer had whined out as she keeled in front of the Frenchwoman that seemed to be intent on leaving her high and dry. When they had arrived at the Talon base the two women were currently deployed at, after a frustratingly long two hour flight, Widowmaker had acted as if nothing had happened between the two of them, simply going to her own room. That had certainly discouraged the newest addition to Talon’s roster. Tracer had thought of just going to her own room and finish herself off, but as if she was able to read her mind Widowmaker had exited her chambers with a look that Tracer could only associate with Widowmaker ‘utterly destroying her’ as the brit put it. Tracer had followed the French woman to her room, with no protest whatsoever to her orders, the promise of sweet release too great for any of that dilly-dallying. However her relief was once again too short lived as Widowmaker had simply opted to strip the brit and tie her hands behind her back ordering to kneel in front of her. Had this been followed by anything other than the sniper sitting in front of her with her legs crossed and opening up a book Tracer would’ve loved to be in that situation.

 

“And yet you still can’t manage even a little self-control.” A teasing tone to the French accented words that sounded more like they were being moaned out rather than spoken only served to turn Tracer on more. She thought of just recalling and getting out of the simple bind around her wrists but she knew the risk of Widowmaker not touching her for months wasn’t worth the reward. She had made that mistake once, never again. Tracer had smirked before she spoke again.

 

“Oh come on, stop being such a stuck up bitch Amélie!” The eyes that ripped from the pages of the book to fix a glare on her own was indication enough that Tracer’s plan had worked. She knew Widowmaker hated that name. If Tracer couldn’t beg her way to her well deserved release she’ll just piss the Frenchwoman off enough to get punished.

 

“Mind your tongue gosse!” Widowmaker hissed slamming the book down on the table at her side. She stood and in one swift motion slapped the time manipulator straight across the face enough to make Tracer’s head turn, leaving a red mark on soft skin. The brit loved it. She smirked looking up at Widowmaker with challenging eyes. This had become a sort of routine for the two. Whenever Tracer didn’t get her way in bed she’d challenge Widowmaker’s authority. The sniper always faltered when her dominance was questioned. With a scowl she stalked around a smugly smirking Tracer. “Wipe that smug look off your face mon petit chiot.” Widowmaker said with hot animosity in her tone. “You are not the one in control here!” With that Tracer’s inevitable sarcastic retort was silenced by a heeled boot forcing her to the floor, making her collide nose first by the sudden movement. A hiss of pain that followed her actions made Widowmaker smirk. As she used her feet to kick Tracer’s thighs apart she spoke. “Ma, quelle salope sale.” a sadistic laugh came from the Frenchwoman as she observed Tracer’s folds, more specifically the wetness that coated them. “Getting wet from being treated like dirt, somehow I wouldn’t put it above you mon petit cochon.”

 

“Oink!Oink!” Tracer said with a giggle, her cheek planted on the floor, earning a chuckle from the assassin. With her face on the floor and her ass in the air Tracer looked nothing more than a whore desperate for release, and she loved every second of it. Widowmaker one again stalked her way to the chair in front of Tracer, somehow making even sitting down look regal, not that the brit could see anything other than a heeled metallic boot right in front of her face. Before long she felt nails dragging from her lower back down to her neck, leaving behind them long, red marks followed by goose bumps. Tracer hummed in appreciation at the attention, her skin burning with a need for any kind of touch. Grabbing her by the back of her neck, Widowmaker pulled the younger woman back to her knees smirking at the bloody nose that her little plaything adorned. Leaning in the Frenchwoman made a point of licking right next to Tracer’s lips, a teasing action that she knew frustrated the brit. Even with everything she gave her, a kiss was never one of them. The hand that had found its way from the back of Tracers neck to its front rubbed soft up and down motions over the brit’s pulse with a thumb. Tracer recognized this moment as the calm before the storm. Widowmaker was angry at her. Usually that would entail a very, _very_ , torturous night however they weren’t at Widowaker’s castle. They lacked the necessary toys for that in this base, but that didn’t mean the Frenchwoman wouldn’t make it a living hell for her. Tracer had found out just how _creative_ Widowmaker really was.

 

“Do you know how easily I could kill you chérie?” She knew that even if she wanted to WIdowmaker couldn’t kill Tracer, despite her annoyance at it she had grown somewhat attached to the time traveler. She wouldn’t call it love. Widowmaker did not love. Not anymore. But the brit was at the very least great stress relief, despite how snarky and outright aggressive she had become since Talon had taken her. That had been part of the reason Widowmaker refused to kiss her. In her eyes this Tracer wasn’t _her_ Tracer. Those lips weren’t _her_ lips.

 

“Mmm yes!” Tracer drawled out her voice evidence of just how hot and bothered she felt. Tracer loved the danger that came with being under Widowmaker’s full control.

 

“Then why, pray tell, are you _so_ insistent on annoying me _chérie_?” Widowmaker asked, her cold fingers tightening against the brit’s slender neck.

 

“I’m sorry!” Tracer wasn’t, they both knew that. A sadistic laugh came from the Frenchwoman as she sat back in her chair, releasing her hold on the tied up brit, opening her legs slightly. A very clear invitation.

 

“Do you truly believe you are worthy of my forgiveness ma petite pute?” The words were drawled out making Tracer’s spine shiver in lust and anticipation.

 

“Please!” Tracer whined out. No reaction. “I beg you, please let your dirty little slut please you _mistress_!”That did it. The brit knew just how much that word affected the cold assassin. With a smirk on her features that could only be describes as power incarnate Widowmaker opened her legs wider, making Tracer grin as she scooted closer to the other woman licking her lips, not caring about the scrapes surely forming on her knees, actually enjoying the small uncomfortable sting. When lust blown hazel eyes met cool golden ones Tracer leaned in opting to kiss up Widowmaker’s exposed leg and thigh, leaving hickeys every now and again. She made sure to take her time with teasing nips and swipes of her tongue before reaching her destination, biting the hem of the other’s panties and pulling them down. This was harder than Tracer thought what with the fact that she lacked the ability to move her hands. Once her objective was clear in front of her, and a hand had made its way on her head pushing her hair back, Tracer leaned in running her flat tongue over the whole of the woman’s folds, marveling at the taste. She always loved Widowmaker’s taste, it was such a distinctive taste, kind of like mint. Trailing her eyes up at her partner the brit took the woman’s clit in her mouth, sucking and swirling her tongue around it before releasing it with a wet pop and moving down to lick in between the Frenchwoman’s lower lips. She continued this patters, sometimes sliding her tongue inside the woman’s vagina, and thankfully just as Tracer’s jaw was cramping up Widowmaker kept the brit’s head in place, covering her face in her fluids as she moaned out obscenities in both English and French. The time traveler loved it, the taste, the little burning sensation on the cut on her nose where Widowmaker’s cum had reached it, the whole claiming aspect of it, Tracer loved it all. Continuing her licking after, helping the other woman ride out her orgasm and cleaning up after herself Tracer smirked up at Widowmaker, whose usual cold eyes were burning with passion and lust.

 

“Lap. Now.” Those words were all Tracer needed as she stood on shaky legs, smirking at the small stain on the floor her wetness had left as it dripped down her thighs. After a while she sat on Widowmaker’s lap, a welcome relief from the hard flooring, Tracer awaited for any action Widowmaker, who had taken off her panties leaving her in just her garter belt, bra and boots, would take. Her long hair was also released from its usual ponytail, now hanging loosely at one side over her shoulder. Widowmaker just screamed sex and Tracer couldn’t help but dry hump the cold woman’s thighs, although there was nothing _dry_ about Tracer. With a scolding slap to her ass Tracer tried her best to still her movements, yet she couldn’t help but wiggle around every once in a while. “Impatient little slut aren’t you?” Widowmaker had purred out with a smirk as she undid the woman’s hands from behind her back. “Play with yourself. You aren’t allowed to cum.” The Frenchwoman said letting one hand rest on Tracer’s waist and the other support her chin and she leaned back on the chair looking at the other woman with feigned disinterest. Tracer practically whined eager for the woman’s touch, but complied at her raised eyebrow. Sliding her hands down her toned stomach Tracer wasted no time in finding her clit, immediately beginning her assault on it. “Slow chérie.” Widowmaker reprimanded making Tracer release another whine, all her fight and insubordination gone in hopes of pleasing the other woman into letting her cum, or even better making her cum. Slowing down her movements into circular strokes to the sensitive bundle of nerves, Tracer let out loud moans and desperate whines making Widowmaker smirk. “Are you about to cum?” Tracer simply nodded furiously as moans escaped her lips “I see.” With those words Widowmaker grabbed Tracer wrist pulling her hand away from her clit making the brit shed tears in frustration making the sadistic assassin laugh.

 

“Noooo _oohhh_!” Her protests were cut short as Widowmaker replaced the brit’s hand with her own. Within a few strokes of her fingers against her clit Tracer shuddered, cumming hard enough to make the others lap wet. After riding out her orgasm on Widowmaker’s hand Tracer let herself fall limp on the other’s body.

 

“Bonne fille.” The Frenchwoman had repeated as she rubbed the girl’s back softly until her breathing had become even signaling that she had fallen asleep on the woman. No matter how much Talon had essentially killed _her_ Tracer, _this_ Tracer still needed aftercare, no matter how evil she thought herself. Letting a sigh escape her lips Widowmaker leaned back on her chair closing her eyes. She had let the shorter woman sleep on her for a while and when she was sure she wouldn’t wake up had moved her to her bed, making sure to put a plaster on her nose and left to sleep on the couch in her room. She would never share a bed with her like she did with _Lena_.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Fat Amy wellp there it is playing repeatedly in the background* 
> 
> Hope you like the second part of this little two-shot poor Talon!Tracer am I right?

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write Widow teasing Talon!Tracer tbh


End file.
